


Kintsugi Trust

by FeelingFredly



Category: Bleach
Genre: Developing Relationship, I Don't Even Know, Lying is bad for the Hollow Soul, M/M, Post-Winter War (Bleach), ShinIchi Week 2019, Trust, no beta/no problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17656415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as Kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.Once something is broken, can it ever be truly mended?





	Kintsugi Trust

 

 

 

Ichigo dragged himself off the futon, bloody cloth still held tight to the side of his head.

“What th’ hell do ya think you’re doin’?”

The voice cut through quiet room, and the redhead groaned.

“Need a glass of water.” The room must’ve spun as he tried to stand, and Shinji couldn’t stop his reflexes, catching the tottering man with a strong arm before he hit the floor.

“What ya need, is a swift kick in the ass.  Get back ta bed.”

Shinji’s movements were gentler than his words, lowering the younger man back to the blankets and checking the wound that was still sluggishly bleeding through his orange hair.

“For once I wish ya took after Isshin a little more,” his words filled the space around them, harmless and light, even though the look in his eyes promised more difficult conversation later. “Your dad’s head is hard enough that even that last shot from Grimmjow wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Ichigo chuckled hoarsely as he leaned against Shinji’s shoulder. “True.  I hit him with a cinder block once, and it barely dented him.  Although that might just have been due to Kisuke’s engineering.  Those gigai’s can take a beating.”

Shinji knew that for a fact.  He’d worn one long enough.

“Here,” he said. “Let me change that.” He reached up and pulled the sodden cloth away, replacing it with a fresh wad of gauze he’d grabbed from Ichigo’s first aid kit. “Ya still want that water?”

Ichigo opened his eyes, and Shinji noted that the pupils were different sizes.  Stupid kid had a concussion, and all for what? Jumping in front of him like that.  Stupid.

“Yeah.” A pale pink tongue attempted to wet equally pale pink lips but failed. “Feel like my mouth is full of sand.”

It had been full of sand.  Hueco Mundo’s finest.  The bones of a million Hollows, ground up and scattered as far as the eye could see. Ichigo had been lying in it. Face down. Bleeding.  And Shinji’d put him there. _Fuck_.

The blond wandered down the hall to Ichigo’s tiny kitchen and filled a glass before heading back to the bedroom.

Ichigo had propped himself up against the cushions and pulled the bandage from his head, giving Shinji a careful look as he held out the only faintly bloody mess.

“I think the bleeding’s stopped.”

The older man just hummed.  Ichigo was correct, but right then the last thing he wanted to do was tell the brat that he was right about anything.

He thrust the glass forward and Ichigo took it with a grateful nod, sipping at first, and then guzzling it like he’d never had anything as wonderful before in his life.

“Man,” he said, shakily putting the glass on the little table beside the futon next to the pile of bloody bandages. “I needed that.  Thanks.”

Shinji dropped onto the futon beside him, his long legs folding up under him like an accordion, and nodded.

“Now.” He drawled the word out as he leaned forward, perching his chin on his hands. “Tell me, _exactly_ , what was going through that Berry-brain of yours when ya decided ta jump in front of Sakanade.”

Ichigo groaned and leaned back onto the cushion.

“I don’t know, alright?” He sounded embarrassed and frustrated and in pain, and Shinji almost felt guilty.

Almost.

They’d fought that morning, and Shinji was still hurt, but this…  he hadn’t wanted this.

“Give me a minute, Shinj,” Ichigo gave his head a gentle shake, and sighed.  His Hollow’s healing powers must be kicking in, because his eyes looked normal again, but the residual pain was still showing in the lines around his mouth.

Shinji couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss that mouth, or punch it, honestly.  Probably both. His Hollow had been snarling at him ever since he’d seen Ichigo and Grimmjow together in the sand.  Possessive son of a bitch.

“Maa, Ichigo,” he said, and clicked his teeth together into a painfully wide smile. “I’ll give ya all the time in the world.  Just understand…  I am going to need an explanation.”

Ichigo scowled.  He must be feeling better.

“I don’t know why,” he growled and tossed the last of his bloodied bandages aside, the skin finally closed and pink, “you’re the one that should be explaining.  Why were you following me?  It was fucking Hueco Mundo!  It’s not safe for you there!”

Shinji stared. It wasn’t safe for _him_? He’d hauled Ichigo’s bloody and broken body across miles to reach Kisuke’s black market garganta, Sakanade and his Hollow barely strong enough to hold the gateway open.

“Ya want to run that by me again, Ichigo? Because I think ya may still be confused by your concussion. I’m not the one bleedin’ here.”

“Yet,” the voice didn’t sound like Ichigo.  The golden eyes didn’t look like Ichigo.  “You’re lucky King stopped me earlier, but that doesn’t mean anything about next time.”

It was the first time since Ichigo’s training that he’d seen Shiro that close to the surface when they weren’t in battle.  Sakanade wasn’t impressed with the threat. Neither was his Hollow.

“You’re welcome ta try,” he growled, his own fear and frustration fueling him. If the white punk wanted a go at him, he’d knock the shit out of him and apologize to Ichigo later.

Ichigo fisted his hands in the bedclothes, and Shinji frowned.  He looked miserable, and that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Ichigo,” he sat back to give the younger man a little breathing room, “I’m not demanding an explanation.” And he wasn’t. Well, not technically _._ “I said what I meant.  I _need_ one. Help me out here.”

Gold faded back to amber, and Shinji relaxed a little.  Ichigo was back. At least he was able to do that much right. “I thought,” he started, and Ichigo stopped him with a raised hand.

“You thought you’d surprise me.”

Shinji nodded, and then shrugged.  “Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his face, the dried blood flaking off like gruesome confetti, and he sighed.

“I _am_ happy to see you.” He frowned at the snort Shinji didn’t bother to smother. “Okay, fine, so I wasn’t happy to see you, but that wasn’t because I don’t like seeing you.  I just wasn’t prepared. I had something else I had to do, and I wasn’t ready, and then you showed up and wanted me to change plans that I couldn’t change, and then you got upset because I didn’t just throw everything over and everything just got to be too much, alright?”

Shinji threw his hands up in frustration. “Ya had plans? Fine. Tell me… What in th’ seven hells did ya have to do in Hueco Mundo? Because if you’re tryin’ to tell me that you had a playdate with the Arrancar, I’m gonna think maybe this wasn’t the worst head injury you’ve had ta deal with recently.”

Ichigo growled and wrapped his arms around a pillow.  “See?  This is why I couldn’t tell you.  I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Shinji leaned forward again, silently demanding that Ichigo look at him. “Tell me.  Tell me what was so important that you had to lie to me— _you lied to me, Ichigo_ —about where you were going. I thought,” his stupid voice fucking _trembled_ on the words. “I thought ya trusted me.”

They’d been through hell together.  Ichigo had saved the Visoreds.  Gone up against everyone who’d argued they were traitors, that they couldn’t be trusted, that their Hollows made them nothing more than animals.  Even now, even knowing that Ichigo could lie to his face, Shinji knew his loyalty would never be in question.  Where Ichigo went, the Visoreds followed.

Shinji had just thought there was… more, there. 

“Why did you attack Grimmjow?”

Ichigo’s voice was flat.  Expressionless. But he was no Kisuke.  If he was asking the question, he had a reason.

“I watched him knock ya halfway across the dunes and then pin ya like a dying butterfly.  He was gonna rip your throat out.” Shinji rolled his eyes. “Attacking him seemed like the right thing ta do at the time.”

A second passed, and then another. Shinji watched as red crept up Ichigo’s face, burning the tips of his ears and staining the peaks of his cheekbones.  He was embarrassed.  But _why_?

“Well,” Ichigo’s voice was gruff and he wouldn’t meet Shinji’s eyes, “it wasn’t what you thought.”

 _Fuck him sideways_.

The blond stared.  For six months he’d been carefully courting Ichigo, slowly testing the waters to see if the younger man would even consider a relationship with another man, not to mention one who was more than two hundred years dead and had a Hollow of his own in his head. He hadn’t even tried to hold Ichigo’s hand. Was he saying that he and Grimmjow…?

“For the past year or so, I’ve been meeting Grimmjow in Hueco Mundo.  What you saw,” Ichigo stumbled over the words. “Well, I was never in any real danger.”

Shinji’s heart was racing, and his Hollow was howling.

“When you pulled out your shikai I knew Grimm couldn’t defend himself,” Ichigo’s eyes were bright, “you’d have killed him.”

Shinji cleared his throat. “Are ya tryin’ ta tell me ya jumped in front of Sakanade because ya couldn’t stand the thought of me takin’ a chunk out of the big blue bastard, so _you_ took the hit instead? Are ya cracked? I almost killed ya!”

Ichigo nodded. “I know.  I _know_ it was close, but I knew you’d pull Sakanade back when you saw it was me.  You’ve got better control of your shikai than any of the other captains.  And you’d have beaten yourself to a pulp if you’d found out that you’d been wrong about Grimm.  You’d never have been able to live with yourself.” The look in his brown eyes begged Shinji to understand. “The only reason you were even in that situation was because of me.  I couldn’t do that to you.”

Shinji pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.  This was insane. Ichigo had finally driven him insane. “Ya think I’d have been eaten up with guilt over killin’ the _Arrancar_? Do you have any idea what it did ta me seeing that strike hit _you_?”

He’d never forget that first moment. He thought he’d killed Ichigo, and when Grimmjow turned those electric blue eyes on him and he saw the hatred burning in them, it was no match the hatred he’d felt for himself.  But then he’d felt it, the energy that was as familiar to him as his own, and in the face of the blind panic that had coursed through him, he’d grabbed Ichigo’s motionless body and shunpo’d away, the faint thrum of Ichigo’s reiatsu the only thing keeping him from staying and letting the Arrancar tear him to pieces.

“I have a pretty good idea.” Ichigo reached a hand across the futon and rested it against Shinji’s knee. “It isn’t enough, but I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Shinji laughed a little wildly.  He was the one who was sorry.  He’d been such a fool.  So certain that Ichigo returned his feelings.  No wonder Kisuke kept warning him that he didn’t understand Ichigo.

“That makes two of us,” he couldn’t keep the jealousy out of his voice, “I guess you can tell your boyfriend I’m sorry, too, the next time you see him.  He probably already wanted to kick my ass for making a play for you.  Now he’ll want to kill me for almost taking your head off.”

Shinji was so wrapped up in his own misery he missed the stunned look on Ichigo’s face.

“My what?”

Shinji tipped his head back and sighed. “Your boyfriend.  Fuckin’ _Grimmjow_.  I know I’d kick anyone’s ass who made a move on ya if you were mine. And my Hollow would destroy anyone who deliberately hurt ya.  That’s why it was so hard to turn the attack aside today. My Hollow managed to grab control of Sakanade. He wanted ta kill th’ Arrancar.” He shook his head.  “I haven’t had to fight him for control like that in a long time.”

Ichigo was staring at him.  He was babbling, he guessed.  Still… He pushed himself up from the futon. 

“Ya want me to call Kisuke to come check on ya later?” The faster he got back to Soul Society, the faster he could sink himself into paperwork and try to forget this entire miserable mistake. Maybe he could talk Hiyori into killing a few bottles of sake to take the edge off. “Ya look like you’re doing okay, but someone should….”

The thought was never finished. It was knocked out of his head by Ichigo’s full body tackle and the crack of his head against the floor.

“Shut up.” Ichigo kissed him. It wasn’t the gentle kiss Shinji had hoped to work up to during his surprise visit, but a hot, demanding kiss, one that demanded a response.

“Hold up there, Ichigo,” Shinji raised his hands to Ichigo’s sides, holding on tightly as he tried to calm his spinning thoughts, “I think I’ve missed somethin’ important here.”

Ichigo spread his knees and straddled Shinji’s hips, refusing to allow him up.

“Grimmjow isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t know what he is, honestly. Sparring partner? Fuck buddy?  But _definitely_ not my boyfriend.”

He leaned forward, his eyes drawn to Shinji’s mouth. There was so much heat in those eyes, so much longing, that the blond couldn’t resist the temptation to tease. He ran his tongue across his lower lip to see what would happen, and satisfaction flooded through him as Ichigo’s eyes fluttered shut before he sucked in a breath, lowering his mouth to kiss him again.

Shinji’s brain had stuttered to a halt when Ichigo had called Grimmjow a _fuck buddy_ , but he’d also said _Not my boyfriend_. He could work with that. He wrapped one arm around Ichigo and flipped them, grinning to himself at the surprised squawk it caused.

Ichigo laid there under him, wide-eyed and breathless, for a moment before starting to speak again.  “I know you have questions, and I owe you answers.  I promise, though, I won’t lie to you again. I hated doing that. I guess I thought if I could just go to Hueco Mundo and explain things to Grimm I wouldn’t have to tell you, and you wouldn’t hate me for it.  Instead, you showed up when Grimm was already expecting me, and I panicked. I’m sorry.”

Shinji shifted, one hand gently tracing Ichigo’s side, and he could feel the tension radiating through the redhead as he latched onto the only part of the flood of words that mattered. “Why would I hate you?”

Ichigo buried his forehead in Shinji’s shoulder, his voice muffled as he answered. “You’re kidding right? I mean… why wouldn’t you after all this? You’ve got a Hollow, but you’re always in control. I feel like I’m fighting my nature all the time and losing. I’m like Grimm—more monster than man. There’s no way you could still want me after knowing what I’m really like. Knowing what I’ve done.”

Shinji sighed.  He’d been going about this all wrong.  He should have listened to his Hollow from the beginning.

 _Finally_ , the dark inner voice barked in triumph. Shinji didn’t argue.

He levered them into a sitting position, propped back up on the futon.  This was going to take a while and lying like that was just going to distract them both.

“First things first,” he said. “No more lyin’.  Panic all ya want.  Run away if ya have to, but don’t lie ta me.”

Ichigo sat back against the pillow and nodded. “I promise.”

Shinji’s heart swelled as he took in the tightly interlaced fingers and the solemn look.  This was _his_ Ichigo.  Facing his problems head on.

“Second things second,” he reached out and laid his hand across Ichigo’s. “I don’t hate ya.  Couldn’t. Ever.”

They sat like that for a moment, the quiet stretching until Shinji figured it was now or never.  He let his Hollow float to the surface, and they shared the view of the redhead they both wanted.

“Third,” his voice sounded like broken glass and gravel, “you’re not th’ only monster here.”

His fingers tightened over Ichigo’s hands, and he felt the younger man pull back in surprise, and then lean forward, something like fascination on his face. Shinji’s heartbeat sped up, and his breathing deepened.  He could smell Ichigo everywhere in the small space, and he wanted to roll in it, and breathe it in until he couldn’t smell anything else.

One of Ichigo’s eyes had blown to gold, the black sclera sharply splitting the iris, and he just knew Shiro was going to push things.  Shiro always pushed things.

“You really want this guy, King?” The Hollow’s laughter echoed when it shouldn’t. “Grimm was lots more fun.  This one thinks you’ll break if he breathes on you too hard.”

Shinji was across the futon pinning Ichigo before the last word was out of his mouth.

“Ya have no idea what I think, ya pasty punk,” he growled, one hand wrapped around Ichigo’s throat, his thumb pressing against that fragile little bone that kept all the insides working right. “If I have ta gut the Arrancar and paint Hueco Mundo with ‘is guts to prove how hard I’ll fight for your _King_ , ya better believe I’d do it.  Ichigo gets a choice, but you just shut yer fuckin’ trap and slink back into the corner where ya belong.”

His words had an unexpected, but not undesirable effect on the man in his arms.  Calloused hands dug into his sides, pulling his closer, and his thigh was now pressed tightly between Ichigo’s as the younger man bucked and ground against him.

It was more than he could bear—the panting breaths, the skittering heartbeat under his fingers, the one wide amber eye, pupil blown wide with desire. He’d waited so long, so very long for this. He dragged the tip of his tongue along the edge of Ichigo’s lower lip, a long, lecherous lick that dragged a hungry mewl from the younger man’s mouth. His inner Hollow egged him on, and he continued his slow slide across Ichigo’s skin.  He tongued the pulse point under his jawline, and then the one just below his ear.  His hot breath teased the wet trails, the shock of the temperature change triggering a full body shudder through the man under him. He tightened his teeth around the lobe of Ichigo’s ear and tugged, the sharp pain a bright contrast against the dark promises Shinji kissed into his skin.

Satisfied, his Hollow released him, convinced that they were now, finally, pursuing their mate properly. Shinji shuddered, his vision slowly shrinking back to just his own eyes, and he looked down at the sweaty, squirming Shinigami in his arms.

“Ichigo?” He gently released the hold he had on the redhead’s neck, kissing the red marks his fingers had left. “Everythin’ okay there?”

Amber eyes peered out from under heavy lids, Shiro nowhere to be seen, and Ichigo licked his lips slowly. “Okay?” He thought about it. “Not the word I’d have chosen, but it’ll work.”

Shinji laughed silently. “What would th’ Shakespeare scholar have chosen then, hmm?”

Ichigo raised a hand and traced a line down the side of his face. “Happy. Relieved.” He leaned up and nipped sharply at Shinji’s neck. “Really fucking turned on.”

Shinji wrapped his arms around his Berry tightly, dropping a possessive kiss on open lips.

“See?  We’re communicatin’ better already.” The blond smiled. There’d be no more secrets between them.  No more hiding.  No more lies. “I ‘spose all that flowery stuff might be useful after all.”

Ichigo laughed, all the earlier pain erased, and Shinji smiled to himself.  _Love all, trust a few, and do wrong to none._   Well… he loved one, trusted one, and would never do wrong to him.  That was enough Shakespeare for him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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